


I’ll Be Home for Christmas (If Only in My Dreams)

by dilapidatedcorvid



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Family Issues, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Hallmark Christmas Movie AU, Reading Time: 75 minutes, Setting: New York, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21942373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dilapidatedcorvid/pseuds/dilapidatedcorvid
Summary: A new immigrant working at a busy bakery, Yasha is just looking to make it one day at a time in the concrete jungles of New York. Christmas is coming up, and despite being excited to explore the city during the holidays, Christmas has never quite felt so lonely. Little does she know that a run-in with one Professor Beauregard Lionett, a bit of a Christmas downer herself, is about to change everything.Or, when Hallmark disappoints you, the only reasonable response is to write the Beauyasha Christmas Hallmark movie AU you didn’t know you needed.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 30
Kudos: 200





	I’ll Be Home for Christmas (If Only in My Dreams)

_Rrrriiinnnggg! Rrriiinnnggg!_

An alarm cuts through the peace and there's a grunt before a pale arm reaches from beyond the sheets to slap it. The alarm peters out with a sad little _ding_ and silence returns to the room. The arm retracts and there's a little bit of grumbling and shifting in the sheets, then stillness again for another five minutes.

_Rrrriiinnnggg! Rrriiinnnggg!_

"Alright, alright, I’m _up_ _!_ " Yasha turns off the alarm clock this time, sitting upright with a grumpy look on her face. She stretches, then pulls the sweater tossed haphazardly over the end of the bed over her shoulders and tucks her feet into fluffy slippers, shuffling off to the bathroom with a big yawn. Looking in the mirror at eyebags and cracked lips, she ruffles her hair.

Yasha squints and discreetly sniffs under her arm. Oh man, she needs to shower. Shower, then food, then work. Yes. In that order.

She yawns one more time. Today is going to be a good day. She can feel it in her bones.

* * *

And then again, life is cruel to Yasha and likes to laugh at her misery. She thinks it's going to be a good day, and then the bus breaks down so she has to walk the rest of the way to the nearest Metro station, and also? It’s raining. Not even snowing. Raining. Downpour raining. Great. She sprints down the stairs after tapping her card, half tempted to just jump the turnstile. She barely catches the Metro as it’s about to leave the station, joining the crowd cramming into a morning rush car, only to have a pair of hands shoving into her back. Nearly breaking her nose on a pole, Yasha whirls around to see who pushed her.

"Hey-"

She turns around to see a disgruntled face glaring back at her, though the face softens when Yasha glares right back.

"Sorry, it's just… your bag."

Yasha looks down to where her messenger bag is digging into the woman's side and she slings it off with a little struggle and an apology to some man she elbows, leaving it at her feet.

"Sorry."

The girl shrugs, her hood slipping off her head to hang off her back. "No worries."

They stand there awkwardly as the train shifts to life, Yasha carefully keeping the girl and everyone else as close to a respectful distance apart as possible on the packed train. It's unbearably awkward. Yasha pats her pockets. Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Headphones? Damnit! She sighs, resigned to suffer this suffocating ride to work in silence. At least there's the sound of the Metro so she doesn't go stir-crazy in the-

The train lurches and a couple people shout in surprise, a baby beginning to cry. It stops entirely in the dark tunnel, lights along the train flickering shut section by section from the front to the back until they're encased in darkness.

Someone screams and a voice Yasha recognises as belonging to the woman who shoved her shouts back a "shut up, no one's going to die!"

Quiet falls back over the train, and sure enough, after a minute or so of stifling silence, the lights come back on as the car hums back to life, though there's still no movement.

The girl sighs. "People, man. Panicking at anything. 's gonna kill someone with a stampede."

Yasha just nods absentmindedly, sending a text to Jester.

_Going to be late. Train broke down between stations._

They stand there for a little while longer before the awkwardness gets to Yasha. She's only been here six months so American customs are still new to her. Do people chat with strangers?

"So… where are you going?" Oh gods, that's such a _terrible_ first thing to say to someone.

The girl looks up at her, seemingly surprised by the attempt at small talk. "Oh, class." She must see Yasha's confusion. She understands not being good at deciphering people’s age, but a whole ten years off? "PhD."

Yasha makes a little intrigued noise. "What field?"

"Political Science. How about you? Why are you on this train?"

Yasha nods to her feet. "Work. At a bakery."

The girl hums. "Oh, nice. Love myself a bakery."

Yasha chuckles, thinking that the conversation is over only to look up when she sees a hand enter her periphery.

"I'm Beau. You know, since we're stuck on a train for the foreseeable future."

Yasha laughs and wipes her sweaty palm on her pants before shaking Beau's hand. "Yasha."

Beau's handshake is firm and she's got a rather sweet smile on her face. "So Yash, since we're stuck here and there is no escape but death by boredom or reprieve by social interaction, tell me about yourself."

Yasha glances at her phone. _No worries, I got here early boss! I'll start the ovens, we're good!_ The bakery would be covered then. "Sure. What do you want to know?"

Beau muses. "Hmm, how about… where are you from?"

"Kosovo. Came here to flee the civil unrest. How about you?"

"California. Wine country." Beau nods at her. "You ask a question."

Yasha laughs. "And here I was, hoping I wouldn't have to think. Hmm… Do you have any siblings?"

Beau nods, terse. "A little brother. You?"

Yasha shakes her head. There’s a story she has somewhere in her about the people she left behind that were like siblings to her, but that’s a long story they don’t have time for. Maybe if she runs into Beau again later. "Your turn."

"What do you do-"

The train hums around them, lights flickering, and begins to move again.

"Oh. Well." Beau looks up to the displays on the train. "My stop is next. Ah well, that was fun."

The train pulls into her station and she nods to Yasha. "Good talk. See you 'round."

Yasha waves a little meekly, trying to get out of the way as people shuffle in and out, half the train vacating until Yasha finds a place to sit, holding her bag in her lap. She gets off one stop later, muttering her "excuse me, excuse me, so sorry, yep, coming through, thank you very much, excuse me, thank you" under her breath until she breaks out back onto the surface, winding through the streets to get to The Black Bison Bakery.

* * *

When she pushes through the heavy wooden door, the smell of baking bread hits her nose and she sighs with relief, finally out of the rain. "Hi Jester, I'm here!"

"Oh, Yasha! Hang on!" A few moments pass and suddenly a little blue tiefling face pops out from the back room. "Good morning! I've got flour on my hands and I’d hug you, but maybe you don’t want that."

Yasha smiles fondly. "No worries, thanks for covering the morning. And for the hug offer."

Jester grins and points at the counter. "There's coffee for you!"

"Oh, thank Kord." Yasha hurries to the steaming mug, cupping her hands around it and hugging it close to her chest. "Oh, my one true love!"

Jester just giggles. "Alright, aprons on, you still need to teach me how to make the sage bread!"

Yasha tosses the messenger bag onto the counter, reaching in it for her apron. "Sure, or do you want to learn the rosemary-" She frowns, feeling around in her bag. Did she really forget her apron? She opens the bag and peers in.

That's… not her bag.

"Oh no…" She pulls out a thick stack of papers. HIST 230? Who is Twiggy? She leafs through them. Kiri. Luc. What?

"What happened?"

Yasha groans. "Someone must have grabbed my bag by accident, oh gosh, I have… these look like student's papers!"

There's the sound of shuffling and then Jester bustles out to peer over her shoulder. "Huh, anybody work at a university you know stood beside you today?"

Yasha tries to think. The cranky businessman she elbowed, the woman with a baby... "Well, there was this one PhD candidate…"

Jester's eyes widen and she points at the papers. "That must be who! Did they get off at the university stop? PhD students often teach lower-level classes! Wait, do you know what class she's teaching?"

Yasha nods, a little wide-eyed. "History?"

Jester shoves the papers back into the bag and thrusts it into Yasha's chest. "She’s probably in the department office. You have to go find her!"

"Wait, what about the bakery?"

Jester grins, giving her a thumbs up. "I've got the bakery! Now go get your apron and return those papers!"

Yasha nods, suddenly invigorated by Jester's enthusiasm and clutches the bag to her chest. Hurrying back out the door into the dismal rain, she runs past grouchy New Yorkers in her rush to get down to the station. Her feet nearly go out from under her a few times on the slippery sidewalk as she weaves and snakes her way through, finally making it down to the trains.

It's less packed to the university, but Yasha's too anxious to sit, pacing along the train as much as she can until the train arrives at Columbia University station. Yasha hurries off, scaling the stairs to emerge onto street level and onto the grounds of the university.

* * *

She wanders around for a little until she finds a little sign that points to the International Affairs Building and she hurries there in the rain, pushing past glass doors. Rain has soaked through her outer layers and her feet are squeezing water out of her socks with every step and leaving a horrid trail of water, but she’s finally here. 

She stops the first person who looks like they might know anything.

"Hi there, so sorry! I was on the Metro today and someone accidentally swapped bags with me. I'm looking for a Beau? A PhD candidate in Political Sciences? She teaches History 230."

The bearded man with curly brown hair, tall and a little rotund, laughs. "Oh, I know Beauregard. I'm pretty sure everyone in this building does. Quite a character." His voice is thick with a Minnesota accent and Yasha can't help but smile. "She's on the seventh floor. I'm sure someone will point you to her."

Yasha thanks him profusely, and looks at the displays above the two elevators. 15th floor. 13th floor. She waits a bit, watching the numbers tick down one by one oh so slowly. It'll be faster if she goes up the stairs. She spies the door right at the end of the hallway and she takes off, climbing two steps at a time. Twice she moves to the side for people coming down, their faces writ with confusion as to why this woman is soaking wet and running with a satchel in her hands.

She makes it to the seventh floor, panting, and opens the stairwell door to the floor. The building isn't too big, she can find her. Yasha tries to calm her breathing, passing by the doors slowly and reading the names attached to them. Gaikwad, Nikar. Hirano, Shigeo. Velez, Yamil. Gelman, Andrew. Lionett, Beauregard. The door is slightly ajar and Yasha knocks.

"Come in?"

Yasha opens the door sheepishly to see the stranger on the train at her desk.

Beau frowns, confused, then sees the bag and gasps. "What—"

"Mysterious bag switch," Yasha laughs, still a little out of breath, "Found ya."

"How… Yasha!" Beau gets up and throws her arms around Yasha tightly despite the waterlogged clothing. "You saved my _ass_! Oh my god, I would have been fired!"

Yasha chuckles, heart still racing from the stairs. "Yeah right, can't get another one of you in the city. And I believe you have my bag?"

Beau makes a noise of agreement, pulling out a nearly identical messenger bag from the desk. "I'm _so_ sorry. Genuinely."

Yasha shrugs. "No big deal, I'm just glad you got your papers back."

Beau chuffs, evidently pleased. "Not for much longer. These are supposed to go out to the students in…" she looks at the clock on the wall. "twenty minutes. Truly. Thank you. Let- let me get you coffee sometime! There's this cool looking place I want to try, and I'd like to take you. Please, it's the least I can do."

Yasha smiles. "It's fine, really, but I wouldn't mind that."

Beau grabs a sticky note from her desk and scrawls down her number, handing it to Yasha. "Give me a call. Well, in two hours when class is over. Thank you, Yasha."

"It's not a worry." Yasha's smile reflects Beau's relieved one. "Have a good class."

"And you have a good day at work!"

Yasha leaves to the sight of Beau waving goodbye, her dress shirt just a little untucked from the flurry of action, the downpour of New York visible through the window behind her. _Beautiful._

* * *

When Yasha returns to the bakery with her apron in hand, she's welcomed by a frazzled-looking Jester working the till as the oven beeps for her attention.

Yasha steps up, touching Jester's shoulder. "Go get your pastries, I can help." She ties the apron on and smiles at the customer. "Hi there, welcome to the Black Bison. How can I help you?"

She works through the morning rush, selling coffee, tea, and muffins and pastries. There's a moment of panic when they run out of croissants, just in time for Jester to come in with a fresh pan ready for the next customer.

It's only when the morning rush is over that Yasha gets to sigh in relief. She heads into the back with Jester, weighing out flour, pouring it onto the bench, and adding oil to it a little at a time as she begins to combine.

"So since you found your apron, you found the stranger?" Jester asks, peering over her shoulder and handing her a small bowl of water and yeast.

Yasha hums in acknowledgement. "Yeah, got her right before her class. She didn't even notice until then."

Jester laughs. "It would have been funny. For her to pull out her papers and get an apron instead."

Yasha chuckles, incorporating the oil and yeast. "I think it would have been more mortifying for her than that. Though maybe a few of her students wouldn't mind. Wait, is this the rosemary oil?"

Jester squints at the oil container. "Sage."

Yasha lays a cheesecloth over the bowl and sticks a sage leaf on top of the cloth. "Okay, we'll come back to this in a bit. Do you want to learn rosemary bread?"

Jester squeals. "Yes, please! Was she nice? The stranger, I mean." She flours the surface of the workbench.

Yasha hums. "Nice enough. She gave me her number for coffee after. As thanks."

Jester makes a curious noise and sticks her head in closer, waggling her eyebrows.

"Not like that, Jessie. Just as thanks," Yasha scoffs, folding in the herbs. "Easy on the mixing here, you don't want to bruise the rosemary. Nice and tender."

Jester begins her own loaf, mixing, folding. "Where are you going for coffee?"

Yasha shrugs, sprinkling a little more rosemary in. "Beau said that there's a coffee place she wants to try, so wherever that is."

"Bet the coffee I make is better," Jester giggles. "Hey Yasha, look!"

Yasha glances over to see rosemary placed on top in the shape of a face with a tongue sticking out. She laughs. "Amazing. Alright, let's let these proof."

They are set aside with cheesecloth over them, and Yasha brings out the morning's first batch of dough that Jester made, splitting them into loaves, scoring them, and sliding them into the large oven to bake.

"Alright, let's get moving."

They both head back out into the front of the store, ready for the 10 am rush.

* * *

_Yasha Nydoorin 18:47_

Hi there, this is Yasha. Sorry for the late text; it was a busy day at work. I hope none of the papers got too soggy. Hope to see you soon.

_Beauregard Lionett 18:53_

Hi Yasha! So sorry I grabbed your bag, let's grab coffee on me! Are you free Sat am?

_Yasha Nydoorin 18:55_

I'll be working, but if you can make 8:30 pm, I'll meet you outside your building?

_Beauregard Lionett 18:56_

Absolutely, I'll see you then!

* * *

Yasha blows into her hands, shivering a little in the cold December air as she reaches the International Affairs building, looking up the many stories. Wow, it's a _really_ ugly building…

"Hi, Yasha!"

She looks back down to see Beau coming out of the building, a scarf bundling her face up to her nose and her hands tucked into the pockets of her big jacket.

"Oof, it's cold!" Beau shivers a little and bumps shoulders, well, her shoulder and Yasha's bicep, together. "Okay, so I found this awesome little place that sells coffee and seasonal drinks, in case you're not into the caffeine this late in the day."

They head down the street, shuffling around people talking on Bluetooth headsets and mothers with strollers containing grumpy looking babies to a small hole-in-the-wall spot that looks like it hasn't been renovated in the last twenty-five years. Beau laughs when she sees Yasha's expression.

"They didn't get their health department permit revoked, don't worry. I checked on Google."

Yasha laughs despite herself and holds the door open for Beau.

"Table for two, please."

They are seated by the window and handed menus before being left to their own devices. There's Christmas music playing quietly in the background and Yasha sees Beau shake her head a little.

"Always so early. By the time Christmas actually rolls around, I'm sick and tired of the music." She smiles wanly.

Yasha nods. "Where I'm from, Catholic Christmas is celebrated, but not as much as this. I am surprised by how excited people are about it. Kosovars put up decorations after 25th December for the New Year, not for Christmas. It is strange to see so much even a month before Christmas."

Beau's face looks equally confused and delighted and Yasha can't help but laugh.

A waitress comes by and they each order coffee, Yasha spending a moment to admire Beau's profile while she speaks to the waitress.

"Yash? _Yashaaa…_ "

Yasha startles out of her daydream and realises Beau was talking to her, the waitress long gone with their order. She feels her cheeks heat up.

"Sorry, got distracted."

Beau chuckles. "That's understandable. If you're too tired, we can—"

"No, no," Yasha assures her. "This is great. I like this. You were going to ask something?"

Beau laughs, bright and clear, and Yasha can't help but mirror her smile.

"How's the bakery doing? It's… Black Tusk?"

"Black Bison." Yasha nods. "It's good. Jester, my coworker, has been helping me make better holiday recipes. We're trying a new ginger taste for our bread."

Beau makes a pleased smile. "I'll have to go try some soon. Any holiday plans?"

"No holidays for bakeries," Yasha laughs. "You?"

Beau shakes her head. "Not one for the holidays."

Yasha nods, smiling at the waitress when coffee is brought, a beautiful dark tan colour just the way she likes it. "No friends or family in town?"

Beau's face screws up at the mention of family. "No, my family isn't a part of my life anymore."

It stings in a strange sort of way for Yasha. That there are people who have a living family who do not wish to spend time with them. Something must have happened, something that tore them apart as well as death could have. "I'm sorry."

Beau shrugs and sips her coffee. "Not much to be sorry for, we all live with the lot we get in life. But yeah, I spend Christmas at home sleeping in, or if I feel like I've sinned too much that year, I go to Mass." She laughs.

Yasha smiles softly. "But you've been in New York for many years now, and spent many Christmases? I have yet to see anything that New York has to offer…"

Beau takes another sip with a raised eyebrow. "Are you asking me to show you around New York for Christmas?"

Yasha shrugs, cupping her hands around her coffee. "If you're up to it. I can pay for coffee this time to make up for it."

Beau laughs. "No need, I'll do it." She sets down her mug. "It's been a while since I've seen the lights anyways."

Yasha lifts her mug to salute Beau. "Thank you. You don't have to, it was just…"

Beau waves her off. "It's good, I should go out more often anyways. There are nice things to do around the city all the way up to the 24th, and it'd be nice to go with a friend."

 _A friend._ It sits warm in Yasha's chest and she feels like she's glowing. "Yes, indeed."

* * *

"How was the date, Yasha?"

Yasha chuckles, unfurling her apron from her bag and tying it on. "It wasn't a date, Jessie.”

"It sure sounded like one," she chirps back, bumping hips with Yasha as she carries a tray of day-old bread to the discount counter. "Adorable meet-cute, coffee-shop date, are you seeing each other again?"

Yasha flushes red. "Uh, yes. She's showing me the Christmas decorations around the city."

Jester squeals. "That's so romantic! It's your first holiday season here too!"

"I guess." Yasha shrugs. "I don't think it's a date though. Beau doesn't like Christmas very much."

When Yasha turns around, Jester's pouting. "What do you mean she doesn't like Christmas? Who doesn't like _Christmas_?"

Yasha just chuckles. Bless Jester’s soul. "It reminds her of her family and it upsets her. You said you wanted to make some cinnamon ginger thingies?"

"Ooh, yes!" Jester pulls out a recipe and lays it on the table. It's definitely perfumed and has dickbutts drawn all over it in multi-coloured Sharpie, and Yasha's distracted by the creative flair when Jester puts down a small cookie with swirls in it, and she takes a nibble.

"Mmh, that's good." She covers her mouth, trying not to spit crumbs everywhere as she chews. "Maybe a touch less sugar?"

Jester pouts. "But the sugar makes it good! Fine… if you tell me what you think of this Beau person!"

"She's… she's nice," she settles on. "She's dedicated to her students and she's kind enough to take me around town even though she hasn't done it in years. She's kind." She shrugs again. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

"Do you _liiiiiike_ her?" Jester giggles.

Yasha smiles, amused. "Not the way I think you mean to ask me. And that dough isn’t going to mix itself."

Jester winks exaggeratedly at her and Yasha rolls her eyes, flipping the store sign from closed to open. Beau's nice and all, but it's nothing... right? She's warm and fuzzy because she has a new friend, it means nothing. Yeah. She's sure of it.

* * *

_Beauregard Lionett 12:56_

Hey Yash, there was a flyer in the office for the holiday market at Union Square. When are you free?

_Yasha Nydoorin 15:17_

We're closed on Thursdays. Any other day of the week and I'd be off very late.

_Beauregard Lionett 15:19_

We can do that, Thursday at 5? I can meet you outside 14 St station.

_Yasha Nydoorin 15:19_

See you then!

* * *

Yuletide music plays from speakers in the background as Yasha follows Beau around the winding tents. There's a deep chill in the air and Yasha has a feeling in her bones that it's going to snow tonight. Just as well. They're just days from Christmas now, and it's become increasingly obvious. The city is decked out in white, red, and green, and Yasha's had a few run-ins with choirs singing carols on the streets.

But this? This is something else entirely.

The smells of eggnog, peppermint, and gingerbread are everywhere as they wind through the busy thoroughfare. Yasha keeps trying not to lose Beau in the crowd, keeping an eye on the cobalt blue of her hat. "I think there's a hot chocolate stand here if I remember correctly… it's been a while… my family used to bring me here. To try and seem normal, I guess."

Yasha smiles to herself and follows Beau to the end of a line of white and red tents, where an older lady sits behind the bench.

"Ah, I remember you." The woman has smile lines sunken deep into her wrinkled face. She's old, bundled up in many layers and radiating fondness. "You… hmmm… I've forgotten your name, dearie, but you used to come here many years ago…"

Beau visibly reddens. "I, uh, yes. I'm Beau. You probably remember me as the Lionett's kid."

The old lady makes an _ahhh_ sound and nods. "I always liked you best of the family. The others were… grumpy. Not often my drinks fail to bring smiles on people's faces. It always worked for you, of course."

Beau nods and looks down at her feet, shuffling a little.

"Right, what can I get you and your tall lady friend?"

It's Yasha's turn to flush. "Uh… a hot chocolate please."

"Make that two."

"Mmhm, right away." The old lady eases off her chair and trundles to the back to pour out two cups of steaming hot cocoa. She presses them into their hands. "It's good for the cold."

Beau slips a bill into her fingers. "Keep the change, ma'am."

She laughs. "You've grown up to be an excellent woman, Beau. Kindness looks good on you. Have a very merry Christmas." She waves goodbye, and they leave with hot drinks between mittened hands.

"That’s cute."

Beau rolls her eyes and sips at her drink.

They walk through the market oohing and ahhing at the various things on display and for sale. There are boxes of chocolates, one of the stores selling them in strange shapes of wrenches and bolts for exorbitant prices, honey served in flights, and pretzels galore. There are carved soaps that smell like lavender and vanilla, candles, and leather goods. Beau spends some time trying on different bracelets and necklaces at the leather shop, and Yasha watches her look longingly at one particular bracelet.

"Sir, how much for that?" She nods to Beau's wrist, who is entirely unaware of what's going on, just admiring it in the mirror.

"Forty-four ninety-nine, Miss."

"I'll take two." She hands over a well-worn bill.

The clerk tucks it away in the cash register and smiles kindly. "Bring them over when you're done and I'll remove the tags."

She nods her thanks and approaches to look at Beau through the mirror. "It looks good on you. Is that the one you want?"

Beau shrugs. "You think it looks good? I won't tell you the price."

Yasha grins and lifts her own wrist to show off a matching one. "Figured we could be… siblings but the same age-"

"Twins?"

"Yes, twins." Yasha shakes her wrist a little.

Beau laughs. "Not a cheap way to twin."

"Consider it a gift," Yasha says, smiling when Beau understands. "I heard it was a tradition in America to have these friendship bracelets."

Beau begins to laugh and for a moment Yasha's afraid she has said something wrong or offended her. "These aren't your prototypical friendship bracelets, but I'd be honoured to accept. Thank you, Yasha."

Yasha blushes and smiles down at her wrist as they take them to the clerk to have the tags removed. She likes the way they look in the clerk’s palm. They match, and somehow that knowledge brings her a sense of inexplicable glee.

"Help me put it on?"

Beau's wrist feels so small and delicate in her big hands but Yasha carefully clips on the bracelet and lets Beau do the same for her. It's nothing, right? This racing in her heart? Beau smiles at her and Yasha can barely manage to beam back, confused, but… secure at the same time. Like she knows what she's meant to do and where she's meant to be. Maybe Jester's right. Maybe…

Beau doesn't let go of her hand when she leads them out of the stall. It's lightly snowing now. _Hah, knew it_. It doesn't quite stick to the ground, but the children around them are very excited for the first snow of the season and stop to open their mouths and let the snow melt on their tongues.

"Did you use to do that?"

"Hm?" Beau sees the open-mouthed child stick her tongue out. "No, my parents would have murdered me. Propriety and all."

Yasha laughs and stops walking, holding Beau there by her hand, and she turns her head towards the sky and sticks out her tongue.

"Dude, really?"

Yasha laughs, scrunching her nose when a cold flake hits her tongue. "You try!"

"No, I'm good…"

Yasha doesn't look down at her, just keeps her eyes on the sky and her tongue out.

Beau sighs, looking around awkwardly. Seeing no one paying attention to them, she also sticks out her tongue, eyes scrunched closed. "It's so cold…"

Yasha giggles. "'s fun!"

"'s no'h vewy effectif," Beau mumbles, tongue out.

Yasha sees an errant flake coming out of the sky and she tries to catch it. She’s just a touch too tall to see Beau trying to do the same thing, and they crash into each other with an “oof”.

“Haha, oops, sorry,” Beau murmurs.

Yasha shakes the snow out of her face and looks down, smiling when she sees powder on Beau's nose. Oh, they’re _very_ close together. She reaches out to brush the snow off.

"Oh."

Beau's eyes meet hers and Yasha smiles meekly. "You had—well…"

The look Beau gives her can only be described as impossibly fond, and Yasha suddenly wants to take a photo and frame it forever.

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologise, that was fun." Beau takes her hand again. "More market?"

"More market."

Yasha doesn't think about how watching Beau take her hand made her feel. Nor does she think about the blush on her cheeks she can't attribute to the cold. Nor does she think about how she wants to see Beau look at her like that again. Instead, she thinks of the bracelet on her wrist and the bracelet on Beau's and the way they match in their entwined hands.

* * *

"Yasha, what did you do yesterday?"

Somehow despite not having any opening manager duties, Jester consistently comes in earlier than Yasha does. Not that Yasha's complaining, of course, and she makes a mental note to add a little extra to Jester's portion of the tips. "I went to the holiday market, how about you?"

Jester gasps and the conversation absolutely derails. "Wait, which holiday market?"

"Union Square." Yasha pulls out her apron and tucks it around her flannel shirt, tying her hair up.

"Oooh, it's so pretty and busy there all the time, and it smells so good! What did you do there? Who did you go with? Did you buy anything?"

Yasha laughs at the barrage of questions. "Oh, I went with Beau. Her family took her when she was younger. She didn't like it much because she was forced to go, but wanted to go again now. We looked at some of the stalls and what they were selling, we had some hot chocolate, and I got this nice bracelet." She shows Jester her wrist.

"Oh my god, oh my god, that's so pretty, that's-" Her eyes narrow. "Did _Beau_ get you this?" She waggles her eyebrows.

"No, no-" Yasha responds, confused. "I… I got her one that was the same-"

"Wait, so you _do_ like her!"

Yasha shoots her a weary look. "I don't- Jester, what- no, it's… it's a _friendship_ bracelet."

Jester looks at her conspiratorially. "Does she know that though?"

Yasha frowns a little. "I think…?"

Jester nods, entirely unbelieving. "What else did you do?"

"We… we ate snow from the sky, walked through the market, and we—"

Jester squeals, clapping her hands together. “You _have_ to bring her here, Yasha, I _have_ to meet her, she sounds like so much fun!”

Yasha chuckles a little. “I’ll send her a message. Just, don’t scare my new friend away?”

Jester rolls her eyes. “I am like, the _best_ at making people like me, I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.”

* * *

_Yasha Nydoorin 9:22_

Hey, hope your day has been good. Just wanted to say that you’re always welcome at Black Bison if you need coffee or baked goods. First time’s free, as they say. 1030 Amsterdam Ave.

_Beauregard Lionett 11:54_

Oh wow, that’s nice of you. I’ll drop by in a few days time once I’m not spending my lunch hours marking papers!

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Yasha looks up every time the door chimes sings its sweet little tune, disappointed every time when it’s not Beau that comes through. While the bakery is always busy, it’s even more so during the holidays. Gatherings are held that require Jester’s famous Hungarian pastries for hosting, bread sought after for elaborate dishes brought to dinner parties, and friends and family reconnect over a cup of hot coffee and gingersnaps. The Black Bison is a refuge for all who need a moment for themselves over the business of the holidays, even if it means the staff have little relief. Though tired, Yasha still raises her head with every chime with a hopeful smile on her face.

Finally on Monday Yasha recognises the face coming through the door, and she waves. 

“Hello, Beau! It is good to see you!”

Beau closes the door and takes off her gloves. “Wow, it smells good...” She immediately moves to the displays of colourful sweets and pastries filled with creams and meringues, admiring them. 

“They look good, don’t they? They taste just as good too.” Yasha comes out from behind the counter to lead Beau to a small corner close by the till. “Here, sit, sit. What can I get you?”

Beau squints at the chalkboard menus mounted above the till. “Hmm, just a black coffee, please.”

“No milk or sugar?”

Beau shakes her head. “Nah, caffeine doesn’t work so well on me so I’ll take all that I can get.”

Yasha laughs and begins to brew a cup. “Are your students really that hard?”

“No.” Beau shakes her fondly. “It’s just a lot to deal with on a Friday.” She takes the offered cup of coffee gratefully and takes a big sip. “Ah damn it, that’s hot. Burned my tongue.”

Yasha chuckles and makes a mug of her own. “That’s what happens when you drink freshly-brewed coffee, Einstein.”

“Hey Yasha, where did we put the-” Jester comes jogging out the back room and sees Yasha chatting with a new woman and she positively _beams_. “Oh hello! You must be Beau, I’ve heard _so much_ about you! I’m Jester, by the way. Jester Fancypants Lavorre.” She holds out a hand for Beau to shake. 

Beau looks a little taken aback but shakes Jester’s hand nonetheless. “Yeah, I’m Beau. It’s nice to meet you.”

Jester suddenly straightens up and claps. “Ooh, I have freshly made bear claws, would you like some?” She doesn’t even wait for Beau to answer before there’s a plate of baked goods in front of Beau. “This has cinnamon, and this one doesn’t. I wasn’t sure if you like cinnamon, but you should try a bear claw with cinnamon. All the best bear claws have them!” She turns to Yasha. “You. Take a break and talk to your _friend_ , I can run the place.”

“Are you sure-”

Jester pulls out the chair and eases Yasha down, patting her head. “Enjoy your talk!” And she skips away, but not too far so she can eavesdrop.

Yasha sighs affectionately. “Sorry, she’s... well, she’s often like that.”

Beau laughs and shrugs, then frowns at Yasha’s coffee. “Oh gods, there’s so much milk in there. What kind of monster... I thought you’d have good taste in coffee!”

Yasha snorts. “Caffeine sensitivity. It’s genetic.”

Beau’s eyes widen, mortified. “Sorry, I-”

Yasha waves her off with a smile. “It’s fine, you didn’t know.”

There’s a moment of mutual silence that Yasha revels in. It’s not uncomfortable by any means, and she finds that she’s losing herself in Beau’s eyes as they sit across each other. Blue. So very blue.

“Seems there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” Beau finally says, resting her chin in her hand. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Yasha raises an eyebrow with a curious smile. “Grey. And you like blue? I’m just guessing from your outfits.”

Beau grins and nods. “Yeah. My favourite season is fall. How about yours?”

“Winter. Why fall?”

Beau shrugs. “I was put in a private boarding school, so fall meant not having to live with my family. It meant freedom, I guess. Freedom to roam and be me, even if I had less time with classes going on.”

Yasha smiles sympathetically. “You’re not much a fan of your family.”

“No, it’s,” Beau visibly swallows, “it’s not easy.” She spends some time thinking about her next words, drumming her fingers on the wooden surface of the table. "They always wanted a son to inherit the family business empire before they retired, but instead, they got a daughter seeking a doctorate degree in political science and history with absolutely no plans to take over the family legacy.” She smiles ruefully. “Academia isn’t particularly prestigious in a family of cutthroat businessmen.”

Yasha nods empathetically. “Surely though, becoming Dr. Beau Lionett must be something of a point of pride?”

Beau grimaces. “They’d rather it be _Beauregard Lionett Esquire_ so I could deal with the litigation side of business, or even just a degree in economics or management. But instead, they’re stuck with a daughter whose future is only higher education and research. Not that it’s a bad thing for most, but to a Lionett, I might as well have betrayed the entire family and all my ancestors.”

“Surely, there is some alternative for your parents other than shunning their child for not wanting to take the same path in life?”

Beau’s laugh is dry. “They gave up hope on me. During my first year at university, I found out that my parents had another child. A son. They decided to not tell me at all for a while. This was once they moved out to Vermont, and I decided to stay in New York for Christmas.” Her voice turns bitter and her fingers pick at the varnish on the table, trembling. “They sent me a Christmas card. A picture of the two of them holding my baby brother. Saying ‘Happy Holidays from the Lionetts’. I wasn’t in the picture. Just this baby brother I was finding out about for the first time.” She swirls the rest of her coffee around in her mug. “We don’t speak much. I’m not allowed around my brother, probably because my parents are afraid I’ll infect him with my _delinquency_.”

Yasha swallows and reaches out to cover Beau’s shaking hand. “I’m sorry.”

Beau shakes her head and sniffs. “Fuck- I mean, sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded that all.”

“It’s okay. Thank you. For trusting me enough to tell me.”

Beau blinks away the angry tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” She picks up a bear claw and takes a bite, making a pleased sound. “How about you? Why winter?”

Yasha shrugs. “I like the cold and snow. No real reason. Well, there was this one girl that I loved back home. Her birthday was in the winter, so she would insist that the whole month was hers, and we would celebrate with each other.” Yasha smiles down into her cup. “So I guess I like winter because I think of her.”

Beau beams. “Is she still in Kosovo then?”

Yasha’s face falls a little. “No. She was killed in the fighting leading up to Kosovo’s independence. Collateral damage.” There’s a pang of pain in her chest and Yasha sips at her drink slowly.

“I’m sorry. What was her name?”

“Zuala.”

Beau smiles and moves the hand under Yasha’s to lace their fingers together. “She sounds like a lovely person, I’m sorry you lost her.”

Yasha just shrugs. “There’s nothing anyone could have done.”

“But we can certainly live in her honour.” Beau answers. “Perhaps we should spend Christmas together. In memory of her?”

Yasha feels something warm settle in her chest. That sounds... that sounds rather nice, actually. “Yes, I’d like that, I think. And I think she would too.”

Beau gives their fingers a squeeze and together they finish the pastries. “Well, I really should get going back to work, but thanks for the chat and the snacks.” Beau says with a charming grin.

“Uh, yeah, yeah! Um, come by any time!” Yasha stumbles over her words, captivated by Beau’s smile.

Beau gets up, pushing her chair in, and moves around the table to hug Yasha tight, their fingers still linked. “Thanks for listening.”

Yasha’s cheeks colour a little and she hugs back. “Anytime. And thank you. For helping make Christmas less lonely for me.”

Beau lets their fingers touch for a moment longer, then lets go, putting her coat and hat back on. “Thank you for the bear claws, Jester, they were delicious, and you’re right, cinnamon _is_ better.”

Jester looks up, trying to look like she wasn’t listening at all. “Hm? Oh, I’m glad you liked them! Would you like another?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Beau puts up a hand, shaking her head. “but thanks for the offer. I’ll see you around, Yash!”

The door chimes closed and Yasha breathes out a content sigh. She picks up the mugs and brings them to the sink, beginning to wash them.

“Soooooo...”

Yasha can’t help but laugh, looking at Jester out of the corner of her eye. “What?”

“You mean to tell me that _wasn’t_ a date?”

Yasha just rolls her eyes. “No, it really wasn’t.”

“You didn’t even tell _me_ about Zuala until three years into our friendship, but you tell this girl a week after you meet her?”

Yasha waves her comments away. “It’s nothing. Really. She’s nice and she’s a great friend, but I don’t like her like that.”

"Well from this side, it sounds like you do," Jester says, her voice a little more serious. "How does she make you feel, Yasha?"

Yasha looks down at her hands. There's bread to be prepared, coffee to be made, a store to run. But she can't do any of that yet. Not when this question is knocking on her soul loud enough that she can't hear anything else.

"She makes me feel safe. Like I'm cared for. Like I know where I'm supposed to be."

Jester smiles softly. "You should tell her that."

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat at the counter and Jester beams at the customer.

"I'll take care of it." Jester pats Yasha's shoulder, leaving a white flour handprint on her dark blue flannel, "but think about it?"

Yasha nods as she puts away the mugs, turning to wash her hands and prepare her work surface.

Flour. Salt. Mix. Flour. Oil. Mix. Bowl. Cover. Rest.

She starts on the next one. Flour. Salt. Mix. Flour. Oil. Mix. Bowl. Cover. Rest.

She puts the two bowls to the side and starts on the ones Jester prepared earlier, risen twice their size under the cheesecloth, and dumps out onto the floured surface, flouring the top.

Half. Knead. Knead. Knead. Fold. Knead. Knead. Knead. Fold. Knead. Knead. Knead. Fold and tuck the ends under itself. Score the top. Set aside.

Then, the other half. Knead. Knead. Knead.

_She's so kind and gentle. Nothing like what she tells me her parents were like._

Fold. Knead. Knead. Knead.

_I feel safe around her. She makes me feel welcome. Wanted. Not just another face. More. Worthy._

Fold. Knead. Knead. Knead.

_I want to see her smile more. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to be happy. She deserves to be happy._

Fold and tuck the ends under itself.

_Could I make her happy?_

Score the top. Set it aside. Begin again.

The afternoon rush comes and goes, and by the time the bakery takes its break, Yasha's arms are tired and she knows what it is she’s feeling.

* * *

_Yasha Nydoorin 16:38_

I've learned today from a customer that you can skate at Central Park. Do you want to do that on the 24th?

_Beauregard Lionett 17:15_

Yasha, I'm so sorry. My parents just booked me a flight home to Vermont to see them and it flies out that evening. I know I promised to spend Christmas with you, but I can't, I'm so sorry.

_Yasha Nydoorin 17:49_

That's okay. Would you be able to do the night of the 23rd?

_Beauregard Lionett 17:51_

Yeah, I can find time. I'm really sorry, Yash.

_Yasha Nydoorin 18:01_

Don't worry, I'm just excited to see you again. You've made this holiday season really amazing, and I've enjoyed every minute I’ve spent with you.

_Beauregard Lionett 18:06_

You okay? You've been typing for a while.

_Yasha Nydoorin 18:14_

Yeah, it's nothing. I'll see you on Wednesday!

* * *

It's almost bittersweet to see Beau by the side of the rink at Central two days later, with their limited time on Yasha's mind. Beau's wearing waterproof pants and a giant snow jacket, big warm mittens on her hands, and a woolly cap on her head. Her boots barely peek out from above the bank of snow that's built up over the past few days. It's a stark contrast to her own jeans and hoodie.

"Don't laugh," Beau grumbles. "It's cold and I don't want to hurt myself falling."

"You won't fall," Yasha assures her. "You know how to skate?"

Beau shakes her head. "Not high society enough to be worth teaching me."

Yasha pays for them both and they borrow skates, Yasha helping Beau get hers on before tightening her own. "Okay, well if we go slow and you hang on to me, we'll be just fine." She ignores the pit in her stomach where this will be the last time she sees Beau before Christmas. It feels… well, it's not important right now because they're stepping onto the ice and Beau's shaking with just one foot still on solid ground.

Yasha turns around and offers both arms to Beau to hang on to. "Both feet on, don't try and step just yet, we'll glide out to better ice."

Beau bravely puts the other foot onto the ice and nearly slips backwards, arms letting go and flailing back. Yasha strides forward to catch Beau before she hits the ice, wrapping her arms tight around Beau’s body. "It's all good, I've got you."

She tries to get Beau to hang on to her arms again but Beau adamantly does not let go of her torso. "Well alright, we can do this too." Yasha slowly glides them over to the side of the rink where there are fewer people and eases Beau's arm onto the edge. "Still alive?"

Beau nods, a shade paler than before. "Nearly lost my brains there."

"You'll be fine, Professor," Yasha laughs. "Okay, just hang on to the rim, let's go one step at a time."

Together they take slow steps and move around the rink, Beau gripping the sides with white knuckles. "I have no idea how you do this for fun, aren't you afraid of like, falling and getting your fingers sliced off by some errant skater?"

Yasha laughs, skating slowly backwards, one hand on Beau's shoulder to guide her. "No one here is going fast enough to cut off any limbs, worry not."

The look Beau shoots her indicates that maybe that didn't assuage any worries at all and Yasha chuckles. "Look, we're halfway around already." And surely, they are, slowly moving step by step.

"Okay, let me just…" Beau reaches out so both hands are on Yasha’s own. "I trust you, don't make me regret it!"

"Never," Yasha breathes, and she slowly brings Beau away from the edge, gliding down the surface of the ice with her hands wrapped around Beau's.

"Oh my god…" Beau tries a few steps and slips on one but catches herself, giggling. "Why have I never done this before?" She tries another few steps, almost giddy in glee.

Yasha picks up speed a little to match her, making their way at a moderate pace now. "Isn't it fun? Do you want to try just one hand?"

Beau's eyes widen and she loosens one hand, reaches out to the side for balance, and she takes a slow step forward. "Look, Yash, look, I'm skating!"

Yasha's laugh is bright and loud. "Yeah, yeah you are!"

"Look at me, I—" Beau takes too ambitious a step and Yasha's right there, catching her right before she gets a face full of ice, sweeping Beau up into her arms and gliding away back to the safety of the sides.

"Still with me?"

Beau doesn't answer and when Yasha looks to her, Beau's mouth hangs half-open, eyes wide and bright. Their faces are… _very_ close. Yasha spends a moment staring at chapped lips, thinking about what Jester said, and maybe Beau does the same, she can't tell for sure. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, to see if Beau’s lips would fit against her own-

"Y-you just… picked me up?"

Yasha blanches. "I'm sorry, I can put you down if-"

"No, no! It's… it’s fine, you're just…" Beau giggles. "I didn’t realise how strong you were."

Yasha blushes bright pink. "I, uh. Bakers. We use a lot of muscle, I guess."

"I bet." Beau pats Yasha's upper arm. "I'm going to miss this. I've never enjoyed the holidays this much."

Yasha's good mood sobers a little. "They don’t make you happy, do they? Your family."

Beau looks away for a moment and shakes her head, small. "No."

"You don't have to go back," Yasha whispers. "Not if it means you are unhappy."

Beau sighs. "They're family. I _have_ to go back. This might be my one chance to make it right with them. To make them proud."

There's a little bit of a sad smile on Yasha's face. "Your family has proved time and time again that they don’t think anything you do will be enough for them. You don’t need their approval to be incredible. Hell, you’re so incredible that they don’t deserve you. Christmas is a time of joy, Beau. Stay with me. Spend the holidays doing what makes you happy. The Catholics say this is a time for celebrating a new start. New hope. Stay with me."

Beau doesn't answer, just presses her cheek against Yasha's chest. "I like how you say my name. My family says _Beauregard this, Beauregard that_. It's nice. To just be Beau."

They're silent for a little bit before Beau tries to skate again. Yasha sets her down on the ice and she holds both of Beau’s hands as they skate until the night sky is dark and the rink is nearly empty, about to close.

"Will you think about it?" Yasha asks, hope in her voice. "Staying."

Beau has a faraway look in her face and when she looks at Yasha, there's a sinking feeling in Yasha's gut. Beau's not going to stay. "I'll think about it."

She's lying.

Yasha nods and they skate off the ice to unlace the skates. "Well… if you stay, I'll be at Rockefeller Center tomorrow night. To see the tree. If… if you're still here, find me there."

Beau doesn't answer, taking Yasha's skates and returning the pairs and putting their shoes back on.

They stand and face each other, a little awkward. It's snowing again, light and wispy, sticking to the white already on the ground.

Beau reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Yasha’s ear and her hand lingers a little, a hair’s breadth away from cupping her jaw. Beau’s breath fogs up the air between them and Yasha holds hers, not wanting to see anything other than the perfect visage of this girl. Beau’s hand falls away and crosses in front of her chest.

"Um, in case I don't see you, Merry Christmas," Beau mumbles, cheeks warm.

Yasha just pulls Beau into a tight hug. "Merry Christmas, Beau. Thank you. For showing me the magic of Christmas in New York."

Beau, silent against her chest, just holds her.

* * *

"Will you see her tonight?"

Yasha just looks at the dough in her hands, lovingly worked and kneaded into a round little loaf with an x cut into the top. She puts it to the side and starts on another loaf, not quite answering.

" _Yashaaa_."

Yasha looks up to see Jester, hands covered in flour, looking at her expectantly, and she sighs. "She flies out tonight."

" _What_? But what about spending Christmas together?"

Yasha shrugs. "Her family booked her a ticket home. So, I guess that's that."

Jester furrows her brow. “The family who forced her to go to the holiday market? The ones who made her not like Christmas? The ones who didn’t tell her about her baby brother? Oh yeah, I overheard that."

Yasha nods.

"They don't seem like nice people."

Yasha sighs and folds together another loaf, cutting into it. "I told her that she should stay, but she isn't going to."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know, I just… I saw her eyes and I knew it." Yasha shrugs. "Some people don't get a choice with these things. I told her I'd be at Rockefeller Center to see the tree in case she changed her mind, but if she's not going…"

Jester sets the bench scraper down hard enough that a customer flinches at the table across the room. "Are you not going to go?"

"I just… it doesn't feel right. I've done all of this with Beau, I just-"

"Yasha Nydoorin!" Jester puts her hands on her hips fiercely. "If you don't go to Rockefeller Center tonight, so help me Traveller, I _will_ steal your favourite apron and draw a dickbutt on it!"

Yasha shakes her head, tired. "It's not going to happen, Jester. I don't want to go if I'm just going to be disappointed."

"And what if she shows up and you're not there?"

"She's not going to show up, Jester! That's the whole problem!" Jester suddenly makes herself smaller and Yasha realises how she's raised her voice. Her shoulders fall and she sighs. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled."

"It's okay, you've been stressed." Jester smiles weakly, slowly unfurling from her hunched position. "But you should think about it. Going anyways, I mean. You owe it to yourself. If she doesn't show up, you get to see the tree. And if she does? Either way, I don't think you'd forgive yourself if she came anyways and found that you weren't there like you promised."

Yasha nods numbly, returning to the half-kneaded dough.

"Yasha, if there was any time of year for a miracle to happen, it's Christmas."

Yasha smiles softly, works the dough into a little round shape and cuts an x into it, sets it aside, and begins again.

"Hey Jessie, can you make two extra bear paws before I leave tonight? With cinnamon, of course."

Jester positively beams.

* * *

The tree is _much_ bigger than she ever would have imagined. It towers above her, gleaming brightly at the very top with what feels like a hundred million decorations draped around it. It just seems to have no end. Yasha just stares up, and up, and up into the dark night sky. Snow falls around her and onto her hat, a thick jacket bundled around her shoulders. Her hands are warmed by fresh-out-of-the-oven bear claws, gooey and hot.

She's been here half an hour now, and the tree doesn't appear any less dazzling. There's a string quintet close by that's playing Christmas carols, and people all around her are dancing and swirling in space under the bright lights.

She looks down at her watch. Five minutes to Christmas Day.

Beau should be flying by now. Yasha didn't check to see what plane she's on or what her flight schedule looks like, but she should be in the air. Yasha looks up and thinks about Beau, sitting in a tin can, probably marking her student's papers with glasses on. Does she wear glasses? Hmm, she'll have to ask next time. She thinks of Beau's smile and the sound of her laugh, and the way Beau says her voice.

_Yasha. Yasha._

"Yasha!"

Yeah, that's it. It's warm, kind, and always so friendly.

"Yasha!"

Yasha's in love with her. She can say it now. She's in love. She can’t help the gleeful giggle she muffles with her gloved hands, and the smell of the bear paws clasped tightly between mittens only compounds her joy.

"Yasha!"

Hands shove at her back and Yasha whips around, startled out of her daydream to see… the same woman who shoved her on the subway a month ago.

"Beau?"

"Yasha!" Beau throws her arms around Yasha's neck, pulling herself up like a monkey. _She's shivering._ Yasha thinks, wrapping Beau up in her arms, _oh gods, she's only in a thin jacket!_

Yasha gently sets her down and unzips her own jacket, putting it gingerly over Beau's shaking shoulders. "Wh- what are you doing? You're _freezing!_ Aren't you supposed to be on a plane? You have to go see your family, wh—"

Beau shakes her head, eyes bright. "My family told me to go home for Christmas. I think they meant Vermont, but… but I was about to board the plane when I realised that I didn't need to go anywhere. I'm already home."

Yasha stares at her.

Beau chuckles breathlessly. "I know, this sounds like it's coming straight out of a Hallmark movie, but believe me. I ran here as fast as I could."

Yasha looks at her puzzled. "Wait… home is… New York?"

Beau smiles, soft and adoring, and Yasha feels her heart melt. "No, silly. Home is you."

Yasha feels something well up in her chest and she has no words though her jaw tries to get something out. Home is… her? What— wait, oh. _Oh._

"You…"

"You were right. Home doesn't make me happy; you do. And Christmas is about being happy, right? So I'm here with you instead." She pulls Yasha down by the collar to press their foreheads together. "And I'm really glad I stayed."

The string quintet begins a slow and melodic tune, a tenor voice singing out the words.

_I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me,_

_Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree,_

"I'm glad you stayed too." Yasha's breath fogs up as she speaks and Beau giggles.

"You know what would make me _really_ happy, though?”

Beau got off a plane for her. Decided to stay for her. Is here at Rockefeller Center with her. “Anything.”

“If I could get a Christmas kiss."

And how could she _possibly_ say no to that? Yasha obliges with a hand cupped around Beau's jaw, bear paws all but forgotten in her pocket. Their lips _do_ fit perfectly together, but somehow the elation of this discovery is tucked under something else that blooms in her heart and surges through her like fire in her veins, a warmth that no baked goods or hot drink could bring her. 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Merry Christmas!” Bells ring and cheers explode around the pair, muffled noise to Yasha’s ears. Snow falls around her, but it's not cold. Not when Beau's here in her arms, kissing her on Christmas Day.

_Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light gleams,_

_I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams._

**Author's Note:**

> There are a bunch of thank-you's and acknowledgements for this fic.
> 
> The first one goes, as always, to my friends on SLEEVES. You've been so supportive during this marathon labour of love, even when all I could tell you was that it was a Hallmark Christmas movie au. You're all endless sources of inspiration and fun, and I'm so glad I get to toss ideas around with you all.
> 
> Secondly goes to my incredible beta who went through my document 3 times and never complained about it; [@corvidlesbian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidlesbian). Thanks for dealing with my 55-word run-on-sentences and helping me pace out the story. Without you and your encouragement to keep writing once exams were done, I don't think I'd be anywhere done.
> 
> And of course, thank you to Hallmark and One Million Moms. Thanks to Hallmark for reversing your poor decision to pull the ad featuring lesbians in it, and thank you, One Million Moms, for almost making me write one million words. Alas, I am human and need sleep, and there are only so many words I can write at once. Still, I got to 1% of a million, so there's that. Jokes on you, One Million Moms, all you got from your ridiculous campaign is ridicule and 10k words of gay Beauyasha Hallmark fic.
> 
> Drop kudos and comments if you enjoyed it, I struggled with this fic for over a month and to date, it's the longest fic both in words and time I've dedicated to it. I now know a rather lot about New York's IRT Broadway–Seventh Avenue Line and also Kosovare Christmas traditions. Maybe it'll come in handy at some trivia night in the future. Here's a fun fact, Black Bison's irl location is called The Hungarian Pastry Shop, and the lore behind it in this story is that Jester is Hungarian and opened the store, hiring Yasha when she realised that running a bakery single-handedly is no simple task. Well, if anyone can do it, it's Jester.
> 
> Happy holidays to you and yours.
> 
> Title from "I'll Be Home for Christmas" by Bing Cosby.
> 
> Tumblr: [frumpkinspocketdimension](https://frumpkinspocketdimension.tumblr.com)  
> Discord: SweetBabyRae#0967


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